Thursday, February 19, 2015

Monday, January 5, 2015

first fuzz of the year!

Oceanside get your fuzz on next friday........

down and out in the snails of found crowns

nail your teeth to the ceiling
pack your silver spoons
and failed fists

we're on lender's schedules
and force-fed angst

year of the improbable
seasoned and gratified

download your gameface
pile on heavy hands

delete requests

start it over ///

programmed claps
hard to hear in one ear

biting tongues
biting down on the buttons

run faster
mood inducing getaways

gateway hugs
slender sums

this is what it's like
being in love with the idea
of being in love

trash left like breadcrumbs
led to the queen of complications

it's not too late to wander back into the snow
the door has not been knocked
hands have not been tied

and you have not lied to yourself yet.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

PW rules my world.

especially today.




She made a good go for a weeping willow
Closed all the windows and made herself a pillow
As her limbs clung to the ground
She lay her head down

Her hair was dirty in February
She was thirty in 1963
A thousand seconds more
On the oven door
She took a long deep breath
While her babies slept

Made a good go for a weeping willow

With a cold, fixed stare
She's cursed with insight
And you can't repair
She's broken inside

She made a good go for a weeping willow
She closed the windows and made herself a pillow
And took a long deep breath
While her babies slept
And the Cadillac creeps
In your body bag

And her blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag
Blacks crackle and drag

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

staggering heights


i'm a screaming picturesque
of a solitary row
imagine all the friends you sold     
i'll be the Shepard's coat
and maybe we can reconcile the crest
because because you won't  afford

wear our navy drags
and call it what you used to (do)
pale the marilyns
and sleep with all the ghosts you can
leave your bags behind
the authors are all out of wind
(begging closer to the edge)

i'm a primadonna courted
by the shells of  feeling low
there was there was a friend you called
we'll scale the prison talk
and burn all of the paper surround
the townies know you're spreading thin

wear our navy drags
and call it what you used to (do)
pale the marilyns
and sleep with all the ghosts you can
leave your bags behind
the authors are all out of wind
(begging closer to the edge)

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

you have gone on.

quite honestly and less vaguely
i am at arms length
to hindsight and emotional reckoning
trying to understand
where we found ourselves lost from
our happiest explorations

left behind the candid dispersal
long nights
filled with dreams and idiosyncrasies
late night petaled lips
and carefully rewarding phone calls

i just want to know you're all right.

but time kills all joy
stews in the obsolete
craves what once was

i was a murder to your crow
a wave in the ocean of your denial
unfinished business
unresolved factions

rebound from books pulled at the seams
trivial pursuant
pretending that this was much less serious
than what you led on

we didn't define things
let our hands do the talking
and our eyes averted
always staring down some other prize

carefree and careless
easy going down the rabbit hole
never to return
to the state of understatement and coarse levees

you could have been a queen
raised up glasses
and made up beds

slept it all away

gave it all way

in the silence and disappearances

pushed it all away

in all honesty
bloodshed and broken promises
this is what you do, you said

there is only so much leeway you can give yourself
to surrender to the same vices and anxieties
repeat cyclist
inevitable scrutiny

we've seen our rooms
dirty and whole
with no apologies
just explanations

and yet, after all the tongue ties
the court dates
the exasperated hours

you still walked away from all of this
with no apologies
no explanations

just brick & mortar.





Thursday, November 6, 2014

haunt

and then i fell asleep to your voice in the distance,
quivering away, reminding, of what you used to be..

in love and inspired,
silent and subtly supportive,
making keep with the winds and timepieces.

scratching the surface, sounding like radio static, just like the ghosts we once were, here to haunt our memories.

i can hear the motorcycles across the interstates,
and the soft white noise of the city,
burning our ears like privied conversations
we were never meant to hear.

so i lay here awake,
waiting for the words
that are never sung
only accented
as harmonies and pauses
of the muses we caused.